Adam Fitzgerald - Speech

Its grammatical splendor behooves address.
One part, as we are part, of time's supple web.
A simple appendage of the speaker's joy,
No less than an arrival of the river at sure edge
Until finally night is conjugal in its plurality,
A ledger that summons the stars to witness
Solemn ceremonies befitting damasked candelabra
But not denying the purge of mercy.

Who provides the candles trim? Do darlings
Inch along the glottal stops of the sea
Or is the ocean, too, part of the rude barbs,
Blinking mechanisms from some far milky coast?
We brought in curtains set with nameplates,
Erected with a modicum of sanity and taboo,
A purple clothespin balancing on a princess
For she too our prism, and everywhere, pale divinity.
Go then, but leave us yet this gulf. Is this not love's groove?

Adam Fitzgerald

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